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A Dark Night in the North
When ambitious men attain the long sought after opportunity to act, they tend to act quite swiftly. What's more, when numerous ambitious men receive opportunities to act, all at the same time, and they are aware of one another, the results tend to be quite catastrophic. Its puzzling really. Truly it is. Citadel of Dravii It is the ninety fifth year of Akarvon, the six-hundredth and ninety-ninth of Jarul, and the Citadel of Dravii is quiet this night. Lycaon is in his chambers, mulling over writings. Some of these writings were written by his predecessors, others are reports that have come in about the Navirian Isles and what has transpired only mere days ago. The Senate of Wardens has demanded action, and Lycaon is torn between action and inaction. Action may result in war, inaction may be the last straw that strips him of his power. What Lycaon does not fully understand is that the Council of Wardens has just voted for him to be removed from office - forcibly if necessary. The Senate has issued their decree, and the Black Irons have been issued their orders and are already in route, with Commander Zyirn at their head. Three knocks at the door, and Lycaon finally answers. To his surprise, the Black Irons are there with Zyirn at their head. Zyirn enters, welcomed by Lycaon. "Lord Patriarch, it is with great sadness I must inform you that you are hereby detained on orders of the Senate of Wardens. You are to be held in the Deep Tower for the time being until a formal Senate hearing can be arranged." Zyirn said, with sadness present in his voice. Lycaon nodded, he knew it'd be unlikely he ever saw the light of day again - that's how it always goes with these things. Meanwhile the Senate of Wardens disbanded their meeting, a new Lord Patriarch being named. Though what the Senate did not realize is that they would be soon find themselves before Lycaon. For Sazar Dravicus had been named the new Lord Patriarch, nephew to Lycaon. Sazar had always admired Lycaon, and none really knew of this admiration. Sazar had even spoken with Lycaon prior to all of this, about the fact the Senate of Wardens had planned for his removal. Lycaon anticipated all along that one night, the Senate of Wardens would act, and he had placed faith in Sazar that he might save him. Sazar was swift in action, and had the entirety of the Senate of Wardens arrested late that night, all the while organizing the most important Dravii together for an impromptu meeting to announce his new role in Dravii society. Messengers ran through the Citadel like flies, messages going to and fro. Before long, a great audience was present in the Great Hall. Sazar on the Lord Patriarch's throne, and Lycaon standing to his right, a bit in front of him. "Dravii, one and all, High Lords and Ladies, and Lowly Servants, I Lycaon Dravicus will no longer be your Lord Patriarch. For a betrayal occurred, though the legality of such betrayal is legal by our customs so I have no way to continue to serve as Lord Patriarch. For some this is a joyful moment, for others a mournful one. Though I am however pleased to announce, Sazar Dravicus is the newly elected Lord Patriarch. I have great faith in his ability and believe he shall lead the Dravii into a new golden age. Long live the Lord Patriarch! Long may he live! Long may he serve the Dravii! May his days be long, his harvests fruitful and his enemies perish, long live the Lord Patriarch!" Lycaon said these things, great cheers erupted as he reached the end. People shouted the words as he said them. The newly elected Lord Patriarch was clearly very welcomed, and many seemed to praise his ascension to the role of Lord Patriarch. Later, once the hall emptied and only Lycaon and the new Lord Patriarch remained, Sazar ordered the Wardnes be brought forth into the hall. The Dravii'n soldiers quickly did so. The Senate of Wardens was assembled before Lycaon and the new Lord Patriarch. Behind each Warden, a guard stood holding the Warden's hands behind their back, restraining them. Sazar nodded to Lycaon, whom then was handed a sword by a Dravii'n soldier. "Some of you are indeed innocent of Treason, but some are not. This night, we will separate the innocent from the guilty, the salt from the sugar. With the Lord Patriarch's blessing, putting an end to my betrayers shall be my final act before my exile. Let us then begin." Navirian Isles It is the ninety fifth year of Akarvon, the six-hundredth and ninety-ninth of Jarul, and the Navirian Isles are enjoying an uneasy peace. Some Ralkish wander the streets, a number of Dravii'n soldiers are present serving as peacekeepers. Navirian Militiafolk guard the Navor-Kal castle. James Jaykay, wrongfully betrayed, had sent word to the Senate of Wardens in the Citadel of Dravii, informing them of his betrayal. They had been swift to send Dravii to aid his would-be re-ascension to the throne, in hopes he may serve them well as a pawn they could manipulate. Though not even the Senate of Wardens had foreseen what he planned. With Black Irons at his side, and a number of ships all soon to approach the Navirian peninsula, Jaykay felt sure of himself. What might stand against the rightful king? Nothing he thought, and perhaps he was right. What's more, the Dravii'n soldiers were the first to spot them, and the Black Irons gave a signal only those under Dravii'n employ would know, and the soldiers sounded no alarms nor seemed surprised by the appearance of approaching ships. Thunk. That was the sound of the ship hitting the beach. Thunk, Thunk, Thunk. The ships each made landfall, for those immediately near the ships, it was apparent ships hit land. Jaykay disembarked and led the Black Irons towards Navor-Kal castle, he had been considering what he might say to his cousin - or as he thought of him, his betrayer. Navirian Militiamen, upon noticing the intruders were quick to take up arms. Ping. Ping. Ping. Crossbows wielded by the Black Irons released bolts, the militiamen dropped dead like flies. Jaykay continued his way towards the Navor-Kal castle. Those who might of resisted his approach in better conditions simply laid down their arms, or got out of the way. Few died that day, as most had the sense to not oppose Jaykay. Finally he reached the Navor-Kal castle, and the guards simply laid down their arms and allowed him in without question. It was as if the people wanted him to return, to lead them again. He hadn't needed to take up sword, nor bow, nor crossbow. The Black Irons did any and all necessary killing, and those who set their eyes on Jaykay knew at once to lay down their arms or die. Jaykay then began his ascent, literally and metaphorically. He climbed to the top, relatively unhindered. The Black Irosn followed behind. At last he reached the top, and set his sights on James Navor II, the false king - The Betrayer... Krolesk "I do not like it." Said the Consul, leaning over the balcony looking over Dawnguard. "To think I might've had amassed a huge military here, had only the funds been avalible. Where have the funds gone?" He said aloud to himself, none else were awake at this hour. "Ostavius, did you not know? I have taken your funds, for the fun of it. Funds for funs. Hahaha." Said a sentient shadow, Ostavius turned with an expression of dread - he knew that voice all too well. Sphree stood before him, leaning towards him, only inches from his face. "I do think, your time has come. Best not trip, that would be a real shame. The suicidal consul... Hah." Sphree said with a smile. Ostavius took half a step back, bumping into the balcony. He placed his arms on the balcony in hopes to avoid leaning too far back. "Cat has your tongue? Shame. I wanted to talk." Sphree said, before beginning to simply walk around the small courtyard and examining its decorations. "Bizarre. People put these things here, and there, and hither and thither... Why? They serve no purpose, but are placed there all the same... Why though?" He looked to Ostavius as he asked his question. "Decoration. To make it look nicer. See?" Ostavius said, worried and scared. Sphree twisted his face, and looked depressed suddenly. "A shame then. I'll make you decoration then, maybe it'll make the plaza below look nicer." Sphree said, before flicking his fingers. Out of nowhere, Sphleek, the living sword and servant to Sphree, flew straight on towards Ostavius. It hit with such force, Ostavius was thrown over the railing and fell to the plaza below. "Darned shame. I hope they like the decoration." Sphree said, laughing. "Decoration. Ha-Ha."'' ''Sphleek replied. Category:New Voldrania Category:Story